Hi guys, happy weekend to you all. Excuse the brief nature of this post, but it’s currently 4pm on Staurday afternoon and I’m still in bed, and yet to put anything aside from my contraceptive pill in my mouth.
The last week or so I’ve been feeling like I was about to get ill, my IBS has been flaring up and I’ve not been sleeping, but yesterday morning the lurgy made itself extremely apparent to me, and everyone who had to share public transport with me.
Anastasia Tasou Always Tired Tee
Nasty Gal Bomber
But I had agreed to have a day out in London with my friend Holly, mooching around the Design Festival spots currently dotted around London. We were both going to our friend Ellisa’s birthday in Balham in the evening, so we thought we’d make the most of the expensive travelcard and make a day of it.
I text Hols in the morning to tell her that I was horribly drippy and the current home for some unpleasant bug that may like to move to new homes and bringing quite literally house warming gifts in the shape of fevers. I wanted to give her the opportunity to say that our day of culture togethr wasn’t worth the risk of upping her position in the bogey game.
As a certified culture fiend and impressive risk taker, she was happy to accept the infected version of me as her day tripping comrade.
I may cover the Design Festival in a future post so I won’t go into too much detail here, but I will explain why I’m feeling even more horrendous than I normally would on day 2 of this kinda bug.
In short, I gave in to peer pressure. Well they didn’t actually have to try hard at all, the posi vibe of the evening made me want to join in, but I ended up having some cocktails – a porn star martini (or 2) and one butterskotch one which arrived embellished with actual popcorn! I know by many standards this is a fairly time Friday night, but for a non drinker such as myself, it had a noteable impact.
With the lack of awareness due to alcohol consumption, and due to being swept up in the happy vibes of the evening, I ended up missing my last train back to Surrey. As someone who pretty much owns zilchomundo a month I couldn’t afford an uber on my own, so had to wait for Matt and Holly (who live right by me) to share a car home. This time ended up being 2am, and after a grossly excessive Mcdonalds feast.
So today, rather than referring to memory, I can channel my current state of unpleasantness and remind myself why I choose not to drink. I also realise that I am a plonker and need to look afer myself a bit better and listen to what my body is trying to tell me, not very quietly! A day in London on a normal health day would be almost too much and require a few days recovery. Throw in a bug and cocktails…well you could say I deserve all thats coming to me.
But before I wallow in my hungover and haggard condition any more, I did want to use this post to raise awareness of something important happening next week.
I’m not sure I am going to be well enough to make it, but please, if you feel you can come support the #MillionsMissing UK Protest in London! – I’ve pasted some info from their site
On May 25, 2016, we did something extraordinary together: we held the largest, loudest protest ever held for ME/CFS.
We came out in force: in Boston, Dallas, San Francisco, Seattle,
Washington D.C., Raleigh, and Atlanta; in London; in Melbourne; in a
Canada-wide virtual protest; in Bergen, Norway; and in Belfast, Northern Ireland.
Impromptu shoe displays popped up in Ottawa and the Netherlands.
Thousands of patients, caregivers, clinicians, and stakeholders raised
their voices together to demand better funding, better medical education, and government oversight for this overlooked, underfunded illness.
We received unprecedented media coverage for the protest. We met with our government officials
as part of a coordinated effort from multiple advocacy organizations,
meeting with over 20 U.S. Congress members and numerous HHS officials to
discuss the demands, and the way forward.
And we can and will do more. We can and will get louder. We can and will be stronger.
Join the protest September 27, and raise your voice up alongside
thousands of others until it shakes the government and the public
awake. Let them know that anyone can get this illness. It is a public health emergency. And we can all do something about it.
It’s quite ironic that I may be too tired to attend a protest on Chronic Fatigue Syndrome… But they did take this into account.
Want to lead a protest? #MEAction can help get you oriented and provide you with materials.
Email firstname.lastname@example.org if you are interested in leading a protest!
Not sure you can handle it on your own? Assemble a small team of leader-volunteers in your area.
I also just wanted to remind those that battle similar fatigue issues not to feel bad if they have to avoid events like birthdays for the sake of their well-being. I realise from last night, that sometimes you really should let the noises your body is making dictate the events of your day. There was a moment at the end of my night when I was in a situation where my people-pleasing self wanted to say yes to the jeers and requests that I stay longer ( to go on to the next venue, which was one of dancing and probably more drinking). It was against my usual grain to stay firm and say that I really needed to go home to bed, but I just about managed to, with a few minutes of wavering where it looked I might give in because I wanted to be a good party monster for the lovely birthday girl.
That said, I’m so glad I went to the bar based birthday party. It was a night of bonding, and cementing and celebrating of friendships new and old. It was also one of girls empowering and lifting eachother up and making promises to always support eachother through future trials and stresses. It really did warm the cockles, there were even happy to tears from some.
All too often I decline opportunities to bond with new people or the neglected existing people of my life, or to be part of lovely nights like this, because I know my body will take a hit, or because I’m worried my tired self will be a burden and detract from the lively vibe. The longer I leave it the more anxious I feel about the prospect, and the less confidence I have to put in these social situations.
But like everything it’s about finding balance. I didn’t achieve this last night -clearly. I should have gone for a bit, shown my face, then retreated to the comfort of my bed at a reasonable hour with a lempsip in hand. But at least I proved to myself I can do social events and not always come away obsessing about things I said or did. It was a great night, and all I have is memories of lovely, funny and powerful conversation, exciting future plans, and horrific but hilarious things in my Whatsapp chat tbox.
So with the benefit of these new tools and realisations I am going to make sure that I meet up with people on those days that I do feel well enough to, rather than watch netflix in my pants on my own, just because its safer and stress free.
Haha, I said this would be a short post, but you guys know I love to ramble. It’s weird being home alone and ill and hungover, there’s no one to complain to or dribble on, so you guys are my virtual hair strokers and water givers today.
Guess I should talk about what I’m wearing briefly. This is the last (I think) of my what I would have worn to LFW looks. I would have been on my last legs by then so it would definitely have been a flat shoes or trainer look.
I toyed with going for a sleek or sexy top, one that clung to the body or revealed some bappage, but you know those days you just want to be a bit more covered up and not worry about nip slips and hoisting up your boobs in the bra so they look even etc.
I saught out one of my all time favourite tees by my incredibly talented artist friend Anastasia Tasou. So apt is the artwork, it always feel as if it was made for me. It wasn’t of course, but it was the perfect gift. I teamed with some rather snazzy ( am 50 years old?) metallic and black stripy cullotte style trousers, which are soo comfortable that I could be tempted throw out my entire denim collection.
I also hunted out this old Nasty Gal bomber because we’ve finally had enough time apart. I grew tired of it when I saw it had become one of those items that was reinterpretted by every high street affordable online store. But a few seasons later, residing in many blogger’s fashion graveyard’s I’m happy to revive it. I couldn’t decide whether I’d opt for delicate flats or try and nod to sport luxe via some superstars, so I’ve shown you both versions.
Thanks for stopping by, rest up if you need, and socialise if you can. xx